Prisoner of Darkness
by The Marvelous Mad Madam Mim
Summary: Demeter revisits the night she was taken by Macavity and the time she spent as a prisoner of his dark realm.
1. A Stranger in the Night

**A Stranger in the Night**

My head is pounding like a drum, sending shockwaves of pain throughout my entire body. Slowly, I open one eye and peer cautiously around the room. I do not remember this place. Gingerly, I push myself into a sitting position, wincing from pain with every movement. Something has to be broken; no doubt about it.

The room is cold and damp. I hear the steady drip of a leaky pipe echo eerily through the empty room. There is no furniture; there are no windows. I wonder what time it is—is it night or morning? I don't know how long I've been asleep. I consider walking over to the door at the other end of the room, but decide against it. I'm in no condition to walk that far, and besides, where would I go once I opened it? If I don't know how I got here, how would I know the way back home?

I lean against the wall, taking time to think. Surprisingly, I am not afraid. I always thought that if I found myself in a situation like this—in a strange, dark place without any recollection of how I got here or how I received the large knot on my head—I would go into hysterics. But actually I am quite calm. I collect my thoughts and try to regain my last memory. It was the night before—or I think it was; I'm not sure how long I've been here—at the Jellicle Ball. Bombie and I had spent the evening grooming ourselves and practicing our dance moves in the hallway of our human's house.

Finally, after glancing at herself for the 100th time in the mirror, Bombalurina announced that it was time to go. On the way, I took time to rehearse my dance steps again.

"You are such a perfectionist," Bombie rolled her eyes and wrinkled her pretty nose in disdain.

It wasn't that Bombie didn't rehearse, because she did—she just relies more on her looks, preferring to just "wing-it" when the time comes, boldly choosing to go with whatever feels right at the moment. That is how Bombie lives her life—no hesitations, no second thoughts, no regrets. I envy her for it.

~*~

_I had spent the evening watching Munkustrap, the Protector of the Jellicles, as he sang songs about the Great Rumpus Cat and announced the candidates for the Heaviside Layer. He's so handsome, just like his brother, the Rum Tum Tugger. But unlike Tugger, he has other qualities to back up his good looks—he is kind and caring; he is strong and brave and good. _

_Mother is always saying that he will make some lucky queen a very good mate one day. I always hope that lucky queen will be me. Perhaps if he would notice me, he would see how much I care. But how could he, when he is surrounded by so many other beautiful queens, like Bombalurina and Cassandra and Rumpleteaser?_

_You see, everyone else has something that makes them special. Tanto can see the future; Bombie can drive a tom wild with a single wink; Cassandra can remember all seven of her past lives; Teaser is an adorably wicked prankster. They all have such strong personalities, such distinctive characteristics. I do not possess such things. I move about in constant fear, always terrified of messing up or doing the wrong thing or otherwise making a fool of myself._

_I don't know how I became so afraid of everything. I don't think I was always this timid. I remember being younger and having such a joie de vie. I would dare to do anything; I was always up for a new adventure. But somehow that all changed. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my spirit, and I don't know how to get it back._

_The night progressed as it usually did. When the other cats began to disappear into the dark night, I decided to return home. Bombie was nowhere to be found. Of course not. She was probably in the arms of some tom, sleeping peacefully, I thought with a pang of envy. I had become acquainted with mating a long time ago, but it had been with Alonzo, a timid unpleasant fumbling that left me feeling foolish and clumsy. I did not see why Bombie enjoyed it so. Perhaps it was because she possessed so much more confidence than I did._

_I walked home alone, feeling slightly depressed. Yet I could feel this edginess, this uneasy gnawing in my stomach. Something was going to happen; I could sense it. Naturally, I was worried because I didn't know what it was._

_That was the last thing I remembered._

_~*~_

The door creaks open, sending in a flood of light. I cringe, but I do not turn away. I look toward the tall form that stands in the doorway. It is obviously a tom. He steps into the room, the light pouring in behind him and blocking his face from my view. His voice seems detached from his body, "Hello, Demeter."

That voice…so gravelly, yet somehow smooth. Suddenly, my mind releases a floodgate of memories…_he was holding me tightly, almost crushing me, but I didn't care. The creatures of the night hummed loudly as my heart pounded in my ears_. I can remember it all—every glorious moment of that night.

~*~

_I was looking down at my paws, not watching where I was going. I bumped into a cat going the opposite direction._

"_Oh, I'm sorry," I whispered hurriedly, looking up at the stranger. He was a ginger tom with dark eyes and a gravelly voice, "No, no, the fault's all mine."_

_I gave a weak smile, knowing it was my fault. He was only being polite._

"_What's your name?" He asked. I looked up, surprised that he would even care. My eyes met his and I was transfixed. He wasn't a very handsome, but there was something about him—something indescribable—that struck me. I caught my breath, "Demeter."_

"_The name of a goddess," he smiled smoothly. "It suits you."_

_I gave a small laugh of surprise, shaking my head, "No, no, I don't think so."_

"_Just because you don't think so doesn't make it any less true," he replied, stepping forward. Everything in my head was screaming for me to leave, to run home as fast as I could. I knew he was dangerous; I could tell just by looking at him. Usually I am very careful, but tonight I didn't care. _

_My mother always warned me against strangers, "A small defenseless kit like you could easily get picked up by strangers. You have to be careful."_

_She never said a "pretty kit", just a "small kit". That was how most cats usually described me—small. You know what always follows small? Insignificant._

_And for the most part, I was small and insignificant. I was easily overshadowed by Bombalurina's tall and lanky form, with her coy glances and coquettish ways. I faded to nothing next to Cassandra's quiet dignity and exotic beauty. I wasn't unique, like the snow white Victoria; I wasn't adorable and outgoing, like my little sister Etcetera. No. I was just plain Demeter. Plain, quiet, small Demeter._

"_That's very sweet of you," I blushed, turning my eyes to the pavement. He gave a wry chuckle, "No one's ever called me sweet before."_

_I looked up at him, afraid that I had offended him, but he was still smiling good-naturedly. He leaned forward, "Demeter, I would like to kiss you."_

_Despite the voice in my head telling me to recoil, to run away, I just stood there, "Well, I don't know if…I mean, I just—"_

_He stopped my mouth with his. I felt the very breath leave my lungs. He pulled away, asking in a low tone, "May I?"_

_I nodded, unable to speak. He kissed me again, pulling me in tightly. I felt myself quiver in fear, resisting the urge to pull away. In that moment I melted into him, feeling fire shoot through my veins as I drew a ragged breath of excitement. Suddenly I knew why Bombie liked it so much._

"_Perhaps we could continue this elsewhere," he smiled down at me. Suddenly, my common sense returned, "I-I-I don't think so..it just seems so…"_

_He took a step back, genuinely thrown off by my refusal. I knew I had made him angry, I gave a small smile, "It's just that…"_

_I was at a loss of words. How could I explain to him that tumultuous feelings that battled in my breast—feelings that I could not even explain to myself?_

"_I understand," he said softly. I motioned weakly with my paws, "I'm not very good at this sort of thing."_

"_You could've fooled me," he grinned again, sending another shot of adrenaline through my body like a lightning bolt. Every inch of my body screamed to be with him, begging for just another taste of this powerful and alluring stranger._

_I smiled nervously again, "It was nice, though. Thank you."_

"_Thank you," he smiled softly back at me. He turned to go, "Sweet dreams, Demeter."_

_I nodded and turned away quickly, before I changed my mind again. I don't know how I made it home so fast._


	2. Kisses for Blows

**Kisses for Blows**

_There was a noise outside my human house in the early morning hours, long before the sun rose. I sat up groggily, expecting to see Bombie dragging herself in after another exhausting night of fun and games, her coat tousled and her face content._

_No one came in._

_Again, a noise outside. Followed by the cry of a small kit. What in Heaviside?_

_Silently, I slipped off the couch and crept to the door. Again, I heard the soft plaintive mew of a kitten. I peered cautiously out the door. I saw nothing in the pale moonlight._

_The kitten mewed again. I left the house cautiously, gliding down the steps and into the bushes, where the cry seemed to originate._

"_Ello, Dollface," a strange tabby cat smiled back at me. He was far from being a defenseless kit—he was a tall, gangly tom, caught between kitten and adulthood._

"_What in Heaviside is going on?" I demanded. That's when I noticed we were not alone—several large black wharf rats stood, eyeing me suspiciously. I shifted back in sudden realization, but it was too late. A burlap sack ducked over my head, I felt the rough paws of several rats shoving me into the sack._

"_Easy does it, now!" The cat reminded them. I kicked about wildly, but I did not cry out. I was too terrified._

"_A regular fighter, this one!" grunted one of the rats. I could feel them dragging me down the pavement, even through the thick burlap I could feel every bump and pebble in the road. Realizing that fighting was now useless, I concentrated on keeping the friction between the heavy burlap and the rough pavement from burning my skin._

_I heard the sound of waves—we were near the docks. I took a fearful breath—were they going to drown me?_

_The movement stopped. I was pulled out of the bag. I looked about wildly, trying to get my bearings. The tom kit grabbed me roughly, holding a rag over my mouth and nose. A strong, sickly scent filled my nostrils, burning my lungs. My world went black._

_~*~_

_I remember waking up in a room, hearing the hum of machines beneath me. The stranger who had kissed me was sitting beside me on the bed, watching me as I slept. I sat up, giving a small self conscious smile, "Hello."_

"_Hello," he smiled back at me._

"_What happened?" I asked, looking around the room. I did not remember this place. He just smiled and leaned forward, kissing me again. I felt electricity shoot through me once more; I forgot my question. I could think about was him—touching me, tasting me, pulling me toward him with an amazing mixture of strength and tenderness._

_~*~_

I feel a hot rush of blood to my face as I blush at the memory of this stranger's touch. I realize I do not know his name. That's the least of my worries right now.

"Where am I?"

"You are in a warehouse," he replies smoothly. I nod. That is too vague of an answer, but I am too afraid to question him further. I can tell by the way he paces the room that he is angry about something.

He turns to me, his eyes blazing with an odd resentment, "Do you know who I am?"

I shake my head, which is still throbbing from an unexplained injury. He rises to his full height, "The name is Macavity."

My blood runs cold. My whole body seems to freeze in fear.

He leans forward, his face now visible. His voice is low and taunting, "Did you have fun last night, betraying your tribe?"

I give a small gasp of surprise. "You…"

"I know," he gives me a knowing grin. "Although, I must admit, you put up quite a fight."

~*~

_We had fallen back, exhausted yet elated. I took in a deep breath, sighing in contentment. I knew why Bombie stayed out all hours of the night. With the right tom, and the right amount of chemistry, this could be quite a rewarding experience._

_The stranger suddenly sat up, an odd look in his eyes, "I want you to fight me."_

"_What?" I asked, half laughing at this odd request. He leaned forward, "C'mon, hit me."_

"_No," I said, forcing a smile. Surely he was joking, or maybe just testing me. He pulled me to him, "C'mon."_

"_No."_

_He dug his claws into my back. I gave a cry of pain, pushing away from him. He grinned wickedly, "See? It's not so hard to fight back."_

_I had rolled away from him, to the corner of the bed. He moved towards me slowly._

"_Don't," I said weakly. His hungry smile just grew. "C'mon, Demeter. I know there's something stronger than that inside of you."_

_He reached for me. I pushed his paw away weakly, "Please, don't."_

_He reached again. I felt a surge of strength boil inside of me—that instinct that pushes you to fight, to survive. I lashed out angrily, my voice suddenly very strong and serious, "Don't touch me."_

_He sat back, a look of mild surprise on his face. He grinned wickedly again, "I knew you were a fighter."_

_He advanced again. I pushed him away. He grabbed me roughly, chuckling to himself. I dug my claws into his chest. He gave a yell of pain and threw me against the wall. My head began to throb. He came at me again. This time I did not fight. When he pulled me towards him, I crumpled into his chest like a flimsy sheet of paper._

_He looked down at me, "What's the matter?"_

"_I don't want to play this game," I replied meekly, tears forming in my eyes from the pain. I was quite certain that the gash in the back of my head was bleeding, already my shoulder blades were aching from the impact._

_He pushed me to the ground with a disgusted look, "You disappoint me."_

_~*~_

_The black rats had appeared once more, I stiffened and instinctively moved toward the gingercat for protection. The rats grinned wickedly at this, their black eyes shining with evil intent. He did not stop them. They grabbed my legs viciously, but I did not feel the pain. I was too busy reaching for the stranger, clawing for any form of refuge from their cruel hands. They dragged me from the room without a word. I remember looking back at his face, seeing the smug smile and thinking, _What hell have I entered_?_

_They threw me into the cellar room, laughing viciously amongst themselves as my head hit the concrete with a resounding thud. I looked up at them through pain-seared eyes; they hovered over me like dark angels of doom._

"_Time to go nighty-night, kitty cat," snarled the largest of the rats, landing a hard kick to my stomach. I felt my lungs collapse as the air left them; I felt sick and unable to move. The rats continued hitting me, kicking my torso, and scratching me with their sharp claws. I curled up in a ball, unable to breath, much less cry out in pain. I tried to shield my face from the worst of the blows. I could not defend myself, but at least I could try to survive._

"_Enough!"_

_I heard the voice of the young tom cat. I could not see anything; everything seemed to be going black; colors swirled behind my eyes and I felt the dizzying sensation of being sick to my stomach. The tom continued, "Mac wants 'er alive, ya twits. Ya've had yore fun, now leav'er be."_

_The rats left, grumbling amongst themselves. I heard the young cat crouch down beside me. His voice took on a softer side, "Y'alroight?"_

_I could not speak through the searing bursts of pain that radiated through my lungs, but I gave a slight nod. I felt him leave the room, the door slamming ominously behind him, followed by the dark finality of a lock clicking._

_~*~_

A shiver of fear races down my spine as I remember this. I take a breath to steady myself, but the ragged sound gives away my fear. Macavity smiles again, "How's your head, Demeter?"

"Why…?" I cannot even begin to form the questions that bounce about my brain. He grins wickedly. "Revenge, dear one, revenge."

I look up at him with wide eyes. What have I ever done to him?

He can obviously read the question on my face, for he quickly adds, "Not against you, of course. You're just too sweet to be mean to someone—even someone like me. I'm after that charming friend of yours, Bombalurina."

My eyes fall to the ground in understanding. It's always about Bombalurina. Of course it is. Why else would he have chosen me? Surely not because of my looks or my personality. No, he merely needed me because I am Bombie's closest friend. This makes the betrayal even more intimate. I want to cry with shame, but I hold back the floodgate of tears that threaten my eyes.

"You see," Macavity takes on a patronizing tone. "She is mine. She does not realize this, but still, it is true—she belongs to me. She ran away a while back…and well, you—unsuspecting and kindhearted little kitty that you are—took her in. Gave her a place to stay. Kept her from returning to me."

I look up at him in confusion, but I do not reply. He continues, "Still, that did not bother me. I knew I could still win her back. But then…"

His face contorts into an ugly mixture of hurt and hatred, "Then, she has to go off and sleep with that deplorable, puny little wuss Munkustrap."

I catch my breath at this. Munku slept with Bombie? Surely she knows how I feel about him—how could she?!

Macavity is now watching me with a look of mild disinterest.

"You envy her, don't you?"

I am beginning to wonder if Macavity can read minds as well. I do not respond. He crouches down beside me, his body moving dangerously close to mine, "You wish you had her tenacity, her courage. Do you know who made her that way? I did."

I look up at him with surprised eyes. After last night, I can see how such a thing could be true. He is touching me now, his paw running up my thigh, "I can give you that power, too. I can make you just like her…"

Despite my fear, I find myself tingling at his touch. I lean against the wall, catching my breath in surprise. He leans forward, "When I'm through with you, you will have such confidence—you can have any tom you want."

I instantly think of Munkustrap. Could it be possible? If he's been with Bombie, he certainly won't go for a timid queen like me. Macavity traces the white patch of fur on my chest with his claw. All thoughts of Munku disappear.

I lean forward, wanting to taste him so badly that all my reservations go out the window.


	3. A Strange New Boldness

**A Strange Boldness**

I cannot believe it. I knew who he was this time, and I still let him touch me, let him seduce me, let him control me and transform me. All for the silly promise that he could make me like Bombalurina.

Still, I think he may be right. I can feel a certain boldness rising within me. Again, he wanted me to fight him, and this time, I did. This time, it ended with a blow to the side of my face that knocked me completely unconscious. I don't know how long I was blacked out; when I awoke, he was gone.

I gently touch the side of my face, gasping in pain. I know it is swollen; I imagine it is black and blue by now. Why didn't he make sure I was OK?

I realize that Macavity doesn't care whether or not I survive. I am a toy, a distraction to him while he patiently waits for Bombalurina. I remember all that Bombie had told me about him—how he plays elaborate games of cat-and-mouse, always staying a step ahead of you, no matter how hard you tried.

I hear footsteps. I hear the muffled sound of a feminine voice. I'm not entirely sure, but it must be Bombalurina.

~*~

It has been quiet for awhile now. Suddenly, I hear a din upstairs. I hear a cry of rage—Bombie, no doubt about it this time—followed by crashing and the sound of bodies hitting solid walls. I know what's going on.

The sound of war continues for a long time. Finally, I hear the sounds of sex. Macavity has won again. Everything becomes quiet again. I try to stay awake, but my eyes are heavy with sleep and my bruises are pounding like a drum. I curl up and drift to sleep, unsure of what will happen next.

I dream of Munkustrap. He seems to stand before me, as if he has come to save me. I drift back into uneasy sleep. When I awake, I find that it was only a dream. I am still alone, in the dark, cold, silent room.

~*~

Macavity enters, striding towards me purposefully. I sit up, straightening against the cold hard wall for strength. I know what will come next. It had developed into a pattern—he will enter, and despite my best attempts or my screaming sense of reason, I will give myself to him. I will fight it at first, of course. I will turn away or lash out with my claws. I will call him a thousand loathsome names and spit in his face. Sometimes he will respond with a righteous fury that makes my insides quake with fear and awe. Sometimes he will simply smile, knowing that in a few minutes' time, I will be crying out in ecstasy, despite the vengeful words that spew from my mouth. He will let me hate him, let me scream and curse and cry as he patiently sits, his snake eyes watching with mild amusement.

Then he does not speak. He simply touches me.

I cannot stop myself from melting—no matter how hard I try, I cannot control my body's reaction to him. Why do I crumble so? How can I so passionately lust after what I so wholeheartedly hate?

Sometimes, he is gentle afterwards. He will sit beside me as I lay on the floor, curled up in a ball of pain and self-hatred. He gently smoothes the hair on my head, his features soften in an uncharacteristic bout of sympathy. He says wonderful things to me—how strong I have become, what a good lover I am, how I am becoming more and more like Bombalurina every day.

I think to myself that I do not want to be like her. If this is how she lives, then I do not envy my friend anymore. I pity her—for this is a trap, a tar-pit of lust and pain, a thing that both kills and gives life. I fear it, I hate it, and yet I find myself counting the minutes until it begins again.

Still, I feel a sudden rush of warmth as he comforts me, drying my tears. In that moment, he always makes me regret the harsh things I say to him, he makes me forget the pain and the fear. I know he only does this to prove his power over me. He proves that no matter how much I hate him, I cannot help but desire the warmth of his touch. I recognize the power he holds, I do not dispute the fact that he controls me with the ease of a puppeteer. But there are times when I feel a certain power within myself, a strange new boldness growing in my spirit. Everytime I fight him, I feel my strength grow, I feel a new Demeter rise within me. Someday my power will overcome his. Not today or even tomorrow, but some day.

Today he is gentle again. He lies next to me, cradling my fragile body in his arms—I don't know how long I have been here, but I do know that I have lost weight. Even I can feel the withered texture of my bones protruding under my fur.

"Don't cry, Demeter," he whispers softly, his breath warm on my neck. "Crying only makes the pain worsen."

I do not believe him, but I try to stop the sobs anyways. I don't want to make him angry again. He pulls me closer to him; I do not resist. I feel the warmth of his body—the only warmth in this freezing, bast-forsaken place. Despite the fact that his very touch sends pain shooting through my body, I lay against him, trying to absorb the warmth, knowing he will leave soon and more than likely, the rats will reappear for my nightly beating. If Macavity knows about their activities, he doesn't seem to care. I am too afraid to say anything.

~*~

Macavity is gone. I am waiting for that familiar sound—the sound of two or three rats plodding down the hall, ready to inflict pain upon my already ravaged body.

But I have decided that ends tonight. I will no longer allow those vermin to abuse me so. I will fight. And I will win. My daily battles with Macavity have given me strength. I no longer fear the dark rats with their tiny fists and sharp talons. I am a cat; by right I am their superior.

And tonight I will teach them this valuable lesson.

~*~

The door opens. They enter. I lie on the floor, not moving. Count the steps til they reach me as my heart pounds in my head. _One, two, three…_

Turn quickly, with a cry of rage. Lash out with all my strength. Swing the paw, throw yourself into it! Ah, a hit—a cry of pain from one of the rats! I can hear myself snarling now, growling furiously as I lash out at them, ducking their attempts to return the blows.

They retreat, their ignorant faces filled with shock, their eyes glazed over with fear. I laugh at this, rising to my full height, my body suddenly alive and pulsing with my newfound power, a strange boldness coursing through my veins.

Yes, little vermin, you are rats. And I am a cat. Do you know what cats do to rats?

~*~

My skin is on fire. I press my cheek to the cold concrete floor, taking a deep breath to steady my ragged, body-racking sobs of pain. I do not think I can endure this much longer, this endless game of heaven and hell, this constant rotation of hate and love, this wheel of pleasure and pain.

Another date with Macavity. This time he brought me up to his room—a rare treat indeed. The night followed much like the first one, except this time, he dragged me down here himself, since the rats now regard me with fear. He threw me into the room carelessly, not even staying to see where I fell or whether I am alright.

I wonder how long I have been here. My life as a Jellicle seems like an eternity away. I think of Munkustrap—he hasn't crossed my mind for some time now. I give a hateful laugh to think that all this started because I wanted to be a strong, sexy queen who would catch his eye. The life I once dreamed of having with him is now shattered and broken, an ugly remnant of myself remains. I am tainted, destroyed—a crushed rose, bleeding, trampled on the ground.

If I survive this hell, how could Munkustrap ever look past the shame that I bear—the shame of giving myself so freely to Macavity? How could _I _ever look past it?

I think on this for a few more moments. Then I realize that I will never leave this place, and I find that oddly comforting, knowing I will never have to face the others, to admit my shame and see the horrified looks on my tribe's faces. I will never have to worry about Munkustrap or be envious of Bombalurina ever again, for I am now a prisoner in the realm of darkness—a realm that never ends, a cruel fire that never sleeps.

This is my fate. I accept it.

I shall never leave this place.

~*~

Macavity has not visited me all day—or I assume it has been all day, I have no sense of time in this dark room. I think something must be up.

I can hear a commotion outside. I can hear a voice, angry and high pitched, rising over the din of the machines, "Where is she?!"

I recognize this voice. I should be able to place it, but I cannot. I hear more ruckus, followed by a howl of pain. The hench rats chuckle wickedly and all is quiet again.

They are coming for me now. I lay down in the corner, quietly awaiting my fate. I hear the door creak open slowly; I bury my face to shield my eyes from the intensity of the light.

But it is not them that come for me.

I hear a hesitant step, the softest pat of a cat's pink paw on the cold floor.

"Demeter?"

~_Le Fin_


End file.
